


Of Masks and Taxes

by perilous_circumstance



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Is Very Polite, EWE, F/M, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Hermione Has A Crush, Office Partnership, One Shot, Post Hogwarts, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Romance, Sexual Tension, Smut, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 17:22:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17533004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perilous_circumstance/pseuds/perilous_circumstance
Summary: Hermione is sick of Draco being so damn polite.for Strictly Dramione's Valentine's Day Smut Fest 2019.Prompt: 86, Talk to his father about business and agree that taxes are too high!





	Of Masks and Taxes

**Author's Note:**

> a million thanks to my amazing beta CourtingInsanity!

 

 

“Merlin mum, where on earth did all of this come from?”

 

Ginny Weasley dropped a stack of moldy Witch Weekly magazines on to the attic floor, kicking up a cloud of dust that sparkled in the sun slanting through the dormer windows. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead and grimaced as she realized it was black with grime.

 

Hermione chuckled at her friend as Molly Weasley, her head stuck in a trunk, waved an admonishing hand in their direction.

 

“Honestly, Ginevra, where else was it supposed to go? Your father never wants to throw anything out and with so many of us…” She trailed off, and Ginny grinned at Hermione.

 

“Oh yes, and we’re still multiplying!” she sang, her hand spreading protectively across her large stomach. 

 

Hermione laughed outright, smiling fondly at the younger witch. Molly let out a deep exasperated sigh. “Yes, yes, we are definitely...multiplying. I finally convinced your father to let me tackle this mess so that we could put some bunks up here. Otherwise, his grandchildren will have to sleep in a tent in the garden!”

 

Molly emerged from the trunk, curly hair framing her round, dust-smeared face. Her hands were planted firmly on her hips and she surveyed the attic with a heavy sense of frustration. Pointing her wand, she sent a series of rapid  _ Scourgifies _ towards a far corner.

 

“Oi Hermione, you have got to hear this.” Ginny laughed, holding up one of the old Witch Weekly magazines. “‘129 Ways to Catch A Husband’ by Poinsettia Peverill. Number twenty-four,  _ Don’t be afraid to associate with more attractive girls; they may have some leftovers _ .”

 

Hermione grimaced, her nose wrinkling in distaste. “Oh no way, how old is that thing?!”

 

Ginny turned the magazine over and peered at the cover. “1958 and it definitely shows. Listen to this one: Number forty,  _ Stand in a corner and cry softly. Chances are good that he’ll come over to find out what’s wrong _ .”

 

Hermione barked out a laugh. Ginny was giggling, running a finger down the list.

 

“‘Forty-eight,  _ Men like to think they’re the authorities on perfume. Ask his advice on what kind you should wear _ . Seventy-two,  _ Don’t whine – girls who whine stay on the vine _ ! Eighty-four,  _ Talk to his father about business and agree that the taxes are too high _ !’ Merlin, just in time for Valentine’s Day tomorrow! What a joke!”

 

Ginny and Hermione were in stitches, their laughter filling the cramped space of the attic. Ginny had tears in her eyes; one tracked down her face leaving a clean trail through the grime. She threw the magazine back onto the stack, sending up another cloud of dust.

 

\---

 

Hermione stood with her hip pressed against the kitchen counter as she trained her wand on the sink full of dirty dishes. Out of the window she could see the pick-up Quidditch game in full swing. Somewhere in another room, she heard Molly singing to herself. They had just had a wonderful lunch and Hermione was struck, as she was every Sunday, by how much she loved this place and these people. Her eyes cast around at the familiar scene and she breathed in the lingering smell of Molly’s cooking. More than any other place in the Wizarding World, this was home.

 

Ginny came in from outside, a hand pressed against the small of her back. She lowered herself into a chair and let out a deep groan. “I am so fat.”

 

Hermione laughed, swishing her wand towards the drying towel. “You’re not fat, you’re six months pregnant.”

 

“Yes, well, I feel twenty months pregnant. I swear James wasn’t this big. Sometimes I wonder if there’s giant blood in Harry’s family. This kid is going to be a monster!”

 

Hermione made sure the dishes were drying without problems and then joined Ginny at the table. She reached out and patted her friend’s hand, giving it a small squeeze. “This kid is going to be amazing. You’re amazing. Any child of yours already has a good start in this world.”

 

Ginny’s hand turned and she grabbed Hermione’s, squeezing back. She sniffed, her eyes watering. “Damn it Hermione, you know I’m just a bucket of hormones right now. You can’t say shit like that.” She swiped a hand across her eyes and smiled. “I can’t wait until you are this happy. I want this for you, too.”

 

Hermione squeezed Ginny’s hand one more time and released it, sitting back in her chair. She sighed, her brows furrowing. “I’m sure my time will come, someday.”

 

“Bollocks, Hermione. You need to make a move. You’re not getting any younger!” 

 

Hermione gaped at her friend who was pointing a threatening finger towards her. Ginny’s face crinkled into a smile and she giggled, collapsing back into her chair. 

 

“Oh Merlin, you should see your face! But seriously ‘Mione, you should tell him how you feel. What’s the worst that could happen?”

 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “The worst that could happen is that I tell Draco bloody Malfoy that I’m attracted to him! Can you imagine? I can just see him, all Pure-blood pride. ‘Thank you for your kindness, Ms. Granger, but I’m afraid that I cannot reciprocate those feelings.’”

 

Ginny guffawed at Hermione’s impression and waggled her finger at her. “Goodness he’s a stiff, isn’t he? I get the feeling he is so terrified of making a wrong step these days that he just moves through life like a...what is that Muggle thing...robot? Yeah, robot.”

 

“He’s trying though, Ginny, he really is. It’s rather sweet actually, how badly he wants to behave. He has done an amazing job of rehabilitating the Malfoy name; did you read that article in  _ The Daily Prophet _ last week? A whole spread on that charity ball Malfoy Enterprises sponsored last month and not one mention of “former Death Eaters” or Azkaban.”

 

“Mmm,” Ginny said, tapping a finger on her lip. “Someone needs to tell him that the ultimate move for rehabilitation would be showing up to those events with The Brightest Witch of Her Age on his arm.”

 

Hermione threw a tea towel at her and laughed.

 

“Maybe you should try some of those tips from that old Witch Weekly at your meeting tomorrow! It being Valentine’s Day and all,” Ginny crowed, her belly shaking with mirth. “Oh Merlin, can you imagine? Actually now that I think about it, that’s probably just what Sacred Twenty-Eight courting is like!”

 

Hermione grimaced; despite all this new world had become, despite all of the rehabilitating and tolerance workshops and ministry decrees, the old Pure-blood ways had a habit of sticking around. Draco Malfoy might not think of her as a Mudblood anymore, but there was no way in hell he would move past her origins to make their relationship anything more than professional.

 

\---

 

Hermione watched Draco  from across her desk as he shifted in his seat. He tugged at the lapel of his tailored suit jacket and then leaned back in his chair. His stare was measured and blank, his demeanor polite. Hermione had a sudden urge to throw something at him, just to see if he would keep being polite about it.

 

“How are you Malfoy?”

 

“Very well, thanks Granger. And you?”

 

Hermione wanted to shout at him just to get a rise but instead she simply grinned.

 

“Really good thanks! Had a quiet weekend, nothing out of the ordinary.”

 

He nodded and drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. Hermione could have screamed in frustration, but she swallowed it down. He was always like this with her, so absolutely correct and so bloody  _ polite _ . She didn’t want the boyish sneering of the old Draco Malfoy to make a reappearance, but she had to admit she missed the smirk.

 

“Any plans for tonight?” She could have kicked herself. What was she thinking asking about his Valentine’s Day plans?

 

His head shook as he brushed something off the shoulder of his jacket. “No plans. What about you?”

 

“None for me either,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “Just a regular evening for me.” She turned her attention to the stack of files on her desk and cleared her throat. “I’ve found a handful of cases that might be helpful for you, Malfoy. The Wizengamot has overseen a variety of class-action related rulings that I think Malfoy Enterprises will find interesting.”

 

She fanned the files out on her desk and tapped the first one with her finger. “For example, this one was a twenty-eight to twenty-two ruling, a clear split down ideological camps, siding with the Kwikspell Company and allowing the company to make it much harder for their consumers to form class actions. As long as the company inserts a clause in its contracts specifying that consumers are limited to individual arbitrations, it can avoid a class action suit.”

 

She handed the file across the desk and Malfoy took it from her, flipping through the pages with a look of vague interest on his face. Hermione took the lull in conversation to roll her shoulders; she had been hunched over the library tables for hours this morning already. She truly loved her career as a lead legal researcher within the Wizengamot law library, but it was hell on her back.

 

She watched him reading the file, his eyes moving across the page. She let her gaze rove over his  sexy tousled hair, down the line of his neck and across his perfectly proportioned chest. She felt her heart stutter in her chest as she watched him lightly bite his lip in concentration.

 

Malfoy closed the file and set it on her desk. “That’s exactly what I’m looking for Granger; you said there were others?”

 

She smiled at him, looking down at the files in front of her. She missed the quick darkening of his eyes and when she looked back up at him he watched her with the same blank politeness. “Quite a few, actually. I pulled what looked relevant, and I’m going to spend the rest of the day weeding through them. I can drop them by the manor this evening on my way home since we’re both free?”

 

He rose from the chair in one fluid movement, straightening his suit jacket and reaching a hand towards her. Hermione jumped up and gripped his hand, shaking it. His palm was warm against hers and she felt a connecting warmth in her belly. She looked up into his eyes and for one moment, she thought she saw him smirk. It was gone so quickly, but that quick flash of the old Draco sent a shot of desire straight to her core. 

 

“I’ll make sure the Floo connection is open. See you this evening, Granger.”

 

After he had shut the door to her office, Hermione sank back down into her chair and cradled her head in her hands.  _ Merlin, I have it bad. _

 

\---

 

Hermione shut the file in front of her and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms, throwing a quick glance at the clock on the wall. _ Just gone five o’clock, time to finish up _ . She shuffled the files in front of her into a stack and stood up, stretching her arms into the air until her back gave an audible  _ pop _ . 

 

She stepped around her desk, brushing at her clothes. She lifted her robes from where they hung on a hook next to her door and slipped them over her arms and shoulders, shrugging until they fell straight. She paused in front of the full length mirror she had hung behind her office door, and sighed a bit. 

 

Her slim black trousers and white blouse had been crisp and classic this morning, but they had become a bit rumpled from a full day of work. She cast a quick ironing charm and grimaced at her hair. Not much she could do about that. She patted at it, but gave up after her riotous curls refused to cooperate. She slipped her feet into her black pumps, taking a breath as she wondered for the hundredth time what it was about a good pair of heels that instilled so much confidence. She snatched the stack of files off her desk and headed out the door.

 

The sound of her heels hitting the slate tile floor of the library echoed within the vaulted space. Bookshelves two stories tall lined each wall, looming over hundreds of tables worn to a lustrous gleam by centuries of hands and books. As she walked, Hermione breathed in deep and let the smell of ancient paper and ink and dust settle into her lungs. The large fireplace at the end of the cavernous room was ornate and carved from indeterminate stone, and a merry fire crackled in its maw. She grabbed a handful of floo powder from the receptacle hanging from the mantle and, with a quick flick of her wrist, stepping into the flames.

 

“Malfoy Manor!”

 

She stepped from the fireplace, clutching the files to her side and dusting the ashes from her robes. She straightened in the front entrance hall of Malfoy Manor and froze.

 

Lucius Malfoy rose from one of the armchairs near the fire, his long white blond hair gleaming in the light. He stood proud and erect before her, his eyes hooded. Hermione felt an old stab of fear and then took a breath -- Lucius wasn’t someone she should be afraid of anymore. She worked every week with his son, at his directive, for the betterment of the corporation he owned. He didn’t wish her harm. 

 

“Ms. Granger, welcome.”

 

His voice was gruff and clipped, but Hermione didn’t detect any malice. She smiled at him, nodding her head.

 

“Mr. Malfoy, hello. I’ve come to drop some files with Draco pertaining to the research we’ve been doing at the law library. Is he home?”

 

Lucius snapped his fingers and a house elf popped into the space at his side, standing expectantly.

 

“Mipsy, would you please tell Draco that Ms. Granger is here to see him.”

 

The house elf popped away again and Lucius gestured towards the chair beside his. Hermione crossed to it and sat, resting the stack of files in her lap. 

 

“My son tells me you’ve found quite a few cases that could be relevant to our needs. I’m very interested to see what you’ve found; your work is always exceptionally detailed and precise.”

 

Hermione blinked at him. Had he just complimented her? “Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, I’m so glad that the work Draco and I have been doing is helpful to you.”

 

“Call me Lucius, please. Your work has been extremely helpful and if I hadn’t been completely convinced that you truly love your current job, I would have tried to hire you myself. But Draco told me he has already offered and you turned him down.”

 

Hermione grinned, remembering that conversation. Draco had almost shown annoyance that day, before his polite mask had overruled him.

 

“Yes Lucius, unfortunately I am one of those rare creatures who actually loves my government position. I get to research so many interesting things and the scope of the Wizengamot library is so vast… maybe someday I’ll work through all of it. And then I’ll know who to call.”

 

Lucius waved an elegant hand at her. “You do that, Ms. Granger. Malfoy Enterprises would be lucky to have one such as you. It’s been an… interesting time, these years after the war. We have had to work very hard to reach the position we are in within the wizarding world. I have to say that I am excited to see where eager young minds like yours and like Draco’s take things. Your generation has experienced much, and I am curious as to how you will change things even more than they have already been changed. Every day I read stories in the Prophet about young people taking on impossible tasks -- have you seen all the fuss about that Boot boy and his crusade against high taxes? Now that is something I can get behind.”

 

Hermione laughed, genuinely surprised at the friendly banter. This was nothing like how she thought a conversation with Lucius Malfoy would be. Her only contact with Malfoy Enterprises had been with Draco and his office staff -- Lucius stayed behind the scenes.

 

“I have to agree with you there, Mr. -- er -- Lucius. I think the hatred of high taxes is something we can all agree on.”

 

As soon as the words left her mouth, Hermione froze.  _ Oh Merlin. Number 84, talk to his father about business and agree that taxes are too high! _ It took every ounce of effort not to laugh out loud -- Ginny was going to die!

 

“I want to tell you, Ms. Granger, that I appreciate very much how fair you have been with us. Our…  _ history _ would certainly give you justification to avoid us entirely. I am an old man, and I have to admit I find it difficult to adapt to this changing world. But even though I am finding it harder to leave past prejudices behind, I do want to make it clear that you have made it much easier to do so by your treatment of us.”

 

Hermione was speechless. She watched as Lucius drummed his fingers on the arm of his chair and cleared his throat. The fire sent shadows dancing across his face and for a moment, Hermione thought she caught a pained look of regret.

 

“Certain… situations that you found yourself in continue to cause me and my wife regret. Without dredging up the past, I would like to extend my… apologies.”

 

Hermione blinked again. She pushed the memory of the drawing room ceiling and the roaring pain away and regarded Lucius Malfoy. He sat very still and very straight, his face betraying nothing.  _ Like father, like son. _

 

“Mr. Malfoy -- Lucius -- thank you. I do appreciate that, very much. I want to make it clear that I would not have accepted this working relationship with Malfoy Enterprises if I didn’t feel comfortable saying that I believe your family have changed. And it has become apparent to me through your deeds and through the way this company is run that the Malfoy family is trying very hard to leave their past reputation behind. But it is very nice to know that I was correct. Thank you for telling me this.”

 

Lucius nodded and a noise from the doorway behind them made them both look up. Draco stood framed in the entry, his arms crossed against his chest and his eyes trained on Hermione. Even from a distance, she could feel the heat of his gaze. Hermione felt her skin prickle and a flush bloom on her cheeks. Beside her, Lucius gave a low chuckle as he rose from his chair.

 

“Ah Draco, there you are. Ms. Granger here has those files she told you about. I’ll leave you to it. Goodnight, Ms. Granger.” He bowed slightly toward her and Hermione smiled at him.  _ Did Lucius Malfoy just wink at her? _

 

“Goodnight, Lucius.” She watched as he left the room, stopping for a moment beside Draco and laying a hand on his son’s shoulder. Draco walked to the chair his father had just vacated and stopped, regarding Hermione with a heated gaze.

 

“Granger, if you have a moment to come up to my office, there are some things I would like to discuss.”

 

The intensity of his gaze and the sound of his voice made Hermione’s toes curl within her shoes. She stared up at him, caught for a moment in his darkened eyes. His pupils were blown and they sparked in the firelight. She shook herself, clutching the files to her chest. She followed after him, trying hard not to ogle his backside as he led her up the stairs.

 

\---

 

Once inside his office, Hermione had just a moment to take in the dark wood, plush Persian carpet, cheery fire and comfortable overstuffed chairs before Draco whirled around. His arm shot out and slammed the door and suddenly Hermione found her back against it, his arms planted on either side of her head. She froze, her body tense and her hand halfway to her wand when she met his eyes. Molten silver, so hot she felt the warmth on her cheeks, they burned with an intensity that almost frightened her. She watched, fascinated, as he swallowed and took a deep, shuddering breath.

 

“Damn it all to hell, Granger. How am I supposed to behave myself when you go and do things like that?” His voice was a growl, and it rasped across her skin leaving goosebumps in its wake.

 

“Things like what?” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his.

 

“Things like treat my asshole of an ex-Death Eater father with dignity and respect.”

 

She blinked. She was doing a lot of deliberate blinking tonight. His arms were rod straight to either side of her, the muscles tense. She brought her hand up and cupped his cheek, letting the pad of her thumb slide across his skin. “Malfoy, both you and your father have worked so hard. You have earned that respect.”

 

He let out a puff of breath, as if he had been holding it, and dropped his forehead forward until it met hers. He was trembling.

 

“Draco… ” Her voice was the softest whisper as she brought her other hand up to frame his face between her palms. “You don’t have to wear this mask with me. You never had to wear it. I want to see  _ you _ .”

 

He groaned, his body shuddering with one violent tremor before pushing forward and crashing his lips against hers. Hermione gasped, opening her lips under his and he was  _ there _ . Tongue and teeth and his hands in her hair, at the back of her neck, one fisted at her hip. He moved in closer, until the length of their bodies were pressed together. 

 

His hands slid under her robes, sliding them off her arms and letting them pool on the floor. Still kissing her, his long fingers began to work on the buttons of her blouse. Her hands splayed out across his back, sliding down to the waistband of his trousers. 

 

The last button slipped through and he spread his hands across her bare stomach. Shockwaves spread out from the point of contact, fizzing along Hermione’s veins. She nipped at his lips, letting her mouth trail across his jawline. She felt his hands fluttering at the button of her trousers as he sucked in a breath.

 

Hermione rose on tip-toe, pressing her lips against his and pushed his hands away. She popped the button free and stepped out of her trousers, kicking her pumps to the side and reaching for his belt buckle.

 

Draco groaned against her lips, sliding his mouth along her jaw and to her neck. He grabbed Hermione’s left thigh and lifted her leg to his waist, pressing her against the door. His hips rocked into hers and Hermione mewled, her blood heating to boiling. She moved against him but his body remained rigid against hers, the trembling in his arms increasing. Their kiss slowed, his lips softening on hers. He traced her bottom lip with his tongue and then pulled his face away slightly.

 

“This isn’t going to be  _ nice _ , Granger. I want you too badly.” Hermione felt his lips move against hers as he spoke, his breath coming hard and fast. Her hands clenched in his shirt where they gripped his shoulders.

 

“Merlin’s beard, Malfoy, I don’t want  _ nice _ . I am so sick of  _ nice  _ and  _ polite _ .” She glared at him, letting out a little huff of breath. He laughed, his chest rumbling against hers.

 

“Bossy know-it-all,” he said, his lips sliding against hers.

 

“Insufferable git,” she retorted, ending on a groan as his hips snapped forward into hers.

 

Draco undid his belt and suddenly he had her knickers pushed to the side, his fingers sliding into her wetness. Hermione gasped as he rubbed his palm against her and she shook against him, feeling like she wanted to crawl out of her skin.

 

She felt him position himself and then he was inside her, the sensation so intense she could have cried. He was watching her, his breath heavy and his eyes bright. She nipped at his neck, sliding her lips across his skin as he created a rhythm, pressing her back into the door with each movement of his hips. His hand gripped her thigh where it wrapped around his waist, hitching it up higher. Hermione gasped, feeling him move deeper within her.

 

“Oh, gods! Draco… ”

 

She could feel the pressure building inside of her, blooming as it spread from her center towards her extremities. Draco’s pace quickened until he was pounding her into the door, his hips snapping against hers. Her head hit back against the wood, her hands grasping at his shoulders. She felt his muscles tighten under her hands, felt him begin to shake and then she was there and she was  _ flying _ . Light burst behind her eyelids and she convulsed, her body moving of its own accord as Draco continued to hammer into her, the rhythm becoming erratic. He gave one long, low groan and shuddered against her as his own release swept over him. 

 

They stood there, trembling against each other, for several moments. His forehead rested on the door beside her, their cheeks barely touching. Hermione felt him take a stuttering breath. He turned his face towards her and kissed her neck, his mouth lingering on her pulse point.

 

“Hermione,” he whispered against her skin and she sighed, happiness spreading through her veins. She felt incandescent, as if her skin should have been throwing off sparks. 

He slid out of her and let her thigh drop to the floor. She stumbled slightly as she put weight on it and he steadied her, chuckling softly. She grinned up at him and he lowered his head to hers, kissing her softly. She let her eyes flutter shut. She would never get used to this.

 

As they retrieved their clothing and cleaned themselves up, Draco cleared his throat slightly. There was a light blush staining his cheeks and Hermione felt her heart flip within her chest.

 

“Happy Valentine’s Day, Granger. I know this is a bit backwards, but nothing about us has ever been normal,” he said with a shrug. “Have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

 

Hermione grinned, pressing against him as she finished buttoning up her blouse. She pressed a light kiss to his mouth. “As long as you promise you won’t be  _ polite _ .”

 

He laughed, catching her waist and pulling her flush against him. His face was open, his eyes dancing as they met hers. Hermione watched as a familiar smirk settled across his lips and she sighed.  _ This was going to be interesting _ .

  
  



End file.
